He checks to see if I’m enraged on his behalf. It reminds me of Always Late Nick’s words down at the beach, kicked up a vicious notch. I wait to hear the climax, the part that Cassie’s going to jump all over.
The long exhale. “I kind of pushed the one guy back.”
There it is. “And he punched you.”
He nods. “I slept at Dre’s because Victor would beat my ass.”
“As he should.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious.” I look him in the eye and try not to wince. It’s a shiner, all right. “That’s what the police are for. You don’t have to be the beacon of justice everywhere you go.”
“The police don’t care,” he says vehemently. “When they came to Pav’s the night those drunken idiots were there, they told them to knock it off and went home. What’s the point?”
“Wouldn’t that still be better than this?” I gesture to his face.
He gives me a sad half smile. “You don’t get it. I don’t want to be that guy who stands around and does nothing if someone’s about to get hurt. I’ve been that guy for too long.”
“I do happen to think it would be beneficial if you stayed out of jail, didn’t get into situations where multiple guys could beat you up, and otherwise didn’t jeopardize your future,” I say. “Oh, yeah, and wasn’t there a scholarship you really wanted? So maybe I don’t get it. Sorry.”
He sighs. The beginnings of a sheepish smile creep up. “When you put it like that–”
“You’re welcome,” I say. “Let’s get some ice on that.”
“OH, NO, YOU don’t,” says Cassie as I approach the library doors at the start of sixth period. “You’re all mine.”
She hugs me, and I’m momentarily buried in her tangerine-colored scarf woven with gold threads. “This is going to blow your mind. I have a math question that I legitimately want to know the answer to.”
“I’m impressed.” My voice is muffled under the scarf. I shove my way out of it.
“My dad’s been sitting at the kitchen table every night with this chem textbook he ordered from the Internet,” she says. “He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like a puppy who wants a treat. He’s clearly begging for me to ask him for help. It’s obnoxious yet kind of cute.”
She looks and sounds like the old Cassie, the one who wasn’t afraid to walk into school. She holds her head higher, her voice confident and infused with a touch of humor. She seems normal, and that’s what worries me.
Her eyebrows knit. “You’re looking at me all weird.”
Is this Cassie when she’s normal? Or is this the fa?ade she puts on to hide the Cassie who clung to me when we walked into school on her first day back? The one who was scared, confused, hurting?
I shake my head. “You should throw your dad a bone. He just wants to help you.”
So do I.
The library door creaks open and Marcos stands in the entryway, backpack on his shoulders. Despite the ice pack pressed to his eye, his swollen and cracked lips are still too visible. “I was wondering where you were,” he says around his wrist.
Cassie’s arm tightens around me. “What happened to you?” It sounds like an accusation.
Marcos’s jaw clenches. His good eye turns to me– told you so.
“You know what, Savannah already told me.”
I flinch at the lie.
She draws herself up taller. “Let me tell you this, Marcos Castillo.”
Oh, God. This sounds like Cassie on the phone with Beth O’Leary the day of Regionals. The tone that spells fire.
I attempt to distract her. “What was your math question, Cass?”
It’s like throwing myself in front of an oncoming train. She whooshes straight over me, unstoppable. “If you so much as think about getting my best friend caught up in your vigilante nonsense, she will end this faster than you can throw a punch.”
My jaw drops.
Marcos takes a step back and bumps against the door. “Savannah can think for herself.”
“I’m looking out for her,” Cassie shoots back. “I don’t need to beat people up to prove it.”
Marcos pulls down the ice pack, revealing the deep bruising and swelling around his puffy eye. Cassie lets out a small gasp.
“Guess that’s what you were doing when she fell into the water on Senior Cut Day, right? When you stood there watching her?”
Cass grips my shoulder so hard that it’ll bruise for sure. “You mean when you wanted to act like the hero?”
“Cass, stop.” I wriggle out of her grasp. “First of all, Savannah is standing right here and can hear all of this. Second of all, you both need to simmer down.”
My words have the opposite effect. She looks at me with that same fire. “You’re choosing him over me? Is this why you’re all gung-ho about forgetting about the city?”
I reel back. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Marcos mutters, retreating back through the doors.
I want to follow him, try to explain that Cassie’s just overprotective, but no excuse in the world can hide her angry words. She meant everything she said.
I stay put, because when your best friend accuses you of choosing a guy over her, you don’t run after him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie says. “Are you covering for him?”
“We had precalc,” I say. “I didn’t have the chance to tell you.”
“Uh, hello, modern technology?” She taps her cell phone. “He’s going to get you both in trouble one day, Savs. I don’t want him to bring you down.”
“We talked,” I say. “He agrees that he could have handled it better.” His heart’s in the right place, even if the execution is misguided.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course he’ll say that. He’s trying to get in your pants.”